


A Fire Against The Cold

by SummerAtLast



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:12:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerAtLast/pseuds/SummerAtLast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet day at home for the witches, with some unexpected guests. And an ent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fire Against The Cold

The wind howled through the alder trees and snuffled the spanish moss on the windows of the witches’ cottage, looking for a way in. Nilesy had called the low, hollow sound “wuthering,” and Lomadia thought it was an appropriately witchy word. She still didn’t fancy going out in that wind, though.

There were plenty of excuses to stay inside, and especially by a fire. Lomadia kept close to the oven as she bottled up smoke for her potions, steadily burning through her supply of saplings. The air got rather thick, but it wasn’t worth opening a window and letting that blistering cold wind in.

Nilesy’s footsteps creaked through the boards of the ceiling, and the occasional muttered curse drifted down the stairs. She wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing up there, and last time she’d ventured up with a cup of tea, she’d found two redstone engines and a mess of wires in the middle of the floor, with Nilesy bashing a redstone torch into the wall, so she’d thought it best to keep clear.

All three cats were inside for once, making nuisances of themselves as Lomadia started cooking dinner. They sat on the spice chest, squabbled with the ravens, wound around her ankles, and stared at her with their large, unblinking eyes. And the constant meowing was really too much. Eventually she bought herself some peace by doling out fish fillets, and they retreated to the beds to lick themselves and purr.

Lomadia hummed as she stirred the stew - fish stew of course; she was trying to come up with exciting new ways to use up all the damn fish their traps brought in. Or at least new ways to disguise the eternal fish taste. She blew on a spoonful and tasted it. Not bad. Could use a bit more chili. She wasn’t a magnificent cook, but at least she’d never used hawthorn berries as a cooking spice by mistake, unlike certain people who really didn’t seem to grasp why things were kept in clearly marked chests and cabinets.

Nilesy trudged down the stairs, holding a rather shiny hoe.

“You need a hoe, Lom? This one’s unbreaking.”

“Sounds lovely,” said Lomadia.

Nilesy cast a glance at the raven preening itself on the gardening supplies chest, and leaned the hoe against the steps. Lomadia opened her mouth to protest, but Nilesy had already crossed the room and eased himself down on his bed with a groan. She shook her head and opened the oven, squeezing a baked potato with her mitt. Still a while to go, though it smelled delicious already.

The cottage wasn’t quite warm, but it felt cozy as Lomadia watched the wind rake through the rows of wheat and shiver the surface of the pond. Lomadia made new labels for potion bottles, leaning against the oven to soak in the heat, and Nilesy flipped through one of the witchery tomes. It was a rare quiet day - no complicated rituals, no bat hunting, and no sodding broomstick rides. She sighed happily, basking in the tingling warmth of the oven, and listened to the wind outside.

When she glanced over, Nilesy had given up on the witchery tome, bookmarking it with a fold of his blanket, and was curled up on the bed stroking a purring cat.

“That needs to go back in the bookshelf when you’re done with it, Nilesy. I found volume three under my bed this morning.”

“Sorry, Lomadia. The witchery door was closed, and you know how Mr. Cat loves to sit under the stairs. Didn’t have the heart to move him.”

The cat in question was extravagantly relaxed, sprawling on the pillow as Nilesy rubbed its belly. It was amazing how much room a cat could take up on a bed - almost crowding Nilesy off at this point.

“Wish I was a cat,” said Nilesy, propping himself up on an elbow. “That’s the life.”

Lomadia smiled. “Might be a spell in there for turning people into cats; I haven’t read the whole thing yet.”

He stroked a slow hand down the cat’s stomach and it stretched, taking its purr up a notch and rolling on its back. “You’re on easy street here, Mr. Cat. All the fish you want; constant petting. Spoiled rotten, you are.” He scratched under its chin, his voice tender.

“If it’s fish you want, we have _plenty_ more, Nilesy,” drawled Lomadia.

Nilesy laughed. “I’ve got all the fish I want already, thanks,” he said dryly.

“I guess all this stew is for me, then,” Lomadia said. “Lucky me.”

Nilesy spluttered, twisting to face her. “Now, I never said I didn’t want dinner, Lomadia, that’s a _slanderous_ -”

“Alright, I _suppose_ you can have some. And I could do you a backrub too, if you like.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Sure. Easier than bothering with a rite of transfiguration or whatever it is. Just let me put the mushrooms in and set it to simmer.”

Nilesy sat up on the bed, and Mr. Cat expanded to occupy the empty space. The cat put a paw on Nilesy’s wrist, and Nilesy chuckled and continued petting it.

Lomadia washed her hands, checked the potatoes one more time, then sat on the bed behind Nilesy, one leg folded under her and one foot on the floor. Nilesy straightened his back and took a deep breath. She petted the cat first, a long stroke from ears to tail, then up its belly. It rumbled under her hand, and as Nilesy watched it, she put her other hand gently on his shoulder.

Nilesy’s back was warm under her hand, and his witch robes were rather rumpled. Nilesy had a layer of buttery softness to him, but she could feel the tight muscles and tendons underneath. No match for her size and strength, but there was no doubt he was a miner. She rubbed gently, barely more than the weight of her hand, just light circles with her palm, feeling the tension in him.

His back was in terrible shape; he’d been hunched over blueprints and machinery all day, and had even been down in the mines earlier looking for some ore or another. His shoulders were up by his ears, and she could feel him braced for it to hurt. Lomadia petted him, putting both palms flat on his back and stroking them down one at a time, smoothing his robes into place, until he sighed and leaned into her.

She took hold of his shoulder with one hand, pressing a little harder with the other one, fingers curling around his ribs as she slid her hand down. His back was a broad, smooth plane, so unlike Xephos’s knobbly ribs and sharp shoulder blades. She switched hands to do the other side after a few strokes, keeping the same rhythm.

“You,” she said, “have done a number on your back here.”

“Getting that damn redstone engine up the ladder.” He hissed in a breath as she slid a hand up over his shoulder, rubbing a thumb across the side of his neck.

“And your neck.” She held the bottom of his robes with one hand, stroking up his spine with the other, up his neck and into his hair. She squeezed, feather-light.

“Half an - half an hour digging through chests. Lost the force dust.” He winced, then pushed back into her hand.

“Only half an hour? You _are_ getting organized.”

She rested a hand on either side of his neck, squeezing her way across his shoulders and down his biceps, then back up again. Nothing hard, just warming him up. It was difficult to get a good grip through the layers of robe and shirt, and she released him so he could shuck the robe. He tossed it on the ground, of course, and she put her hands back on him, gently kneading his shoulders and occasionally rubbing a thumb into his trapezius. He hung his head and murmured when she got a good spot.

Nilesy was breathing harder, but she could still feel the trembling ache in his back, the way he held himself stiff to avoid working his sore muscles. That wouldn’t do. She could feel the knots of tension, the hard muscles slipping under her grip. Lomadia squeezed experimentally, and he yelped.

“Not so hard, Lom!”

She sighed. “Oh, you baby.” But she lightened her touch, rubbing gently until the stiff muscles thawed and her hand sank deeper with just a whisper of strength.

She rubbed a palm down his back, then up to the nape of his neck, squeezing the shivering lines of tension she found there. Goosebumps broke out over his skin. She slid her hand up under his hair, taking a firm grip on his neck. He shivered, hunching his shoulders and tipping his head back, and the tight muscles under his skin slid out of her grip. Lomadia held still until he relaxed.

Lomadia fluttered her fingers lightly up and down the column of his neck, then pressed them into his skin, working them in circles to find the source of the tension. Nilesy hummed happily at the light pressure.

She unwound the coiled tension on either side of his neck, and gently rubbed his temples, the hinge of his jaw, and the delicate skin under his ears. He lolled into her hands, letting her move his head from side to side, almost purring when she ran her hands into his hair and tugged lightly.

“Feels fantastic,” he breathed.

Lomadia smiled and drew her hands down his neck, using her fingertips and just a whisper of her nails. He shivered, so she did it again. She started slow on his upper back, kneading him like bread dough, with smooth firm strokes between his shoulder blades. Nilesy was far more relaxed now, and didn’t jump away from deeper pressure. She ran the edge of her hand down his spine, then curved it around his shoulder blade, and he sighed. His breath caught when she pushed her thumb into the tender spot between shoulder blade and spine. She could feel the knotted muscle, but it slipped from under her finger.

“Up a bit, Lom. You had it, there.”

She went after it again, but it was an elusive bugger, and slid away when she put enough pressure on it. She pushed her thumb into Nilesy’s back and pulled his shoulder back with the other hand to get a good angle. He whimpered, twisting from side to side as she applied steady pressure, and pushed back into her. Her thumb ached, and she pulled away.

“Wait, no, that was-”

She put her elbow there, and he snapped his mouth shut, breathing out hard through his nose. The knot was shrinking under her hand like a sugar cube dropped in hot tea, and she gave it a good stir with a twist of her elbow, leaning heavily into Nilesy until it was gone.

Of course, there was a matching knot on the other side, but she had to go back to using her thumb, easing her way in again, since he was still jumpy and stiff on that side, tensing to protect it. She lingered there until she could press hard with her elbow without getting any yelps and flinches, then sought out more knots in his back. He guided her hands up a bit, no down just a hair and to the right, that’s it, now the same on the other side. Lomadia listened to Nilesy’s squeaks and groans when she closed in on the right spot, and grinned, pushing harder to get more.

“Ah, Lomadia, ah, too hard.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “Take a deep breath.”

He drew a breath in.

“And let it out.”

He huffed out a breath, and the muscle softened under her hand. She pressed harder.

“And again.”

Nilesy puffed, and the knot gave way again. When it was gone, she took her hands off him.

He sucked in a breath. “I’ll do the stables tomorrow if you keep going.”

“Deal,” she said, “but I have to stir the stew first.”

The stew could do with a pinch more salt, but it was thick and hearty, and left a warm glow in her mouth and throat. She might have to pull up some essence crops to make room for more chilis, but it would be a worthwhile investment.

Nilesy was in the same position when she got back to the bed. His eyes were half shut, and he was leaning forwards, braced on his arms. She settled down behind him, and he swayed back as the bed dipped.

She started at the top, digging her thumbs into the muscle on either side of his spine and moving downwards, her fingers passing over his ribs as she briskly wiggled her thumbs. He made an appreciative noise at the shifting, alternating pressure. He gasped and arched when she got to his lower back.

“God, that’s -”

“Awful? Never do it again? Gotcha.”

“ _Lomadia_. You’re so mean.”

She laughed, settling her hands on his hips, and worked her thumbs into his lower back. Nilesy groaned with every breath, and she took a hand away long enough to tip his head forwards, pulling something tight in his lower back and working it loose again with her thumbs. He puffed out a shuddering breath, rolling his head from side to side.

Lomadia worked her way up and down his spine, playing him like a music box. She found the spots that made a low, breathless groan, the spots where he whined and arched back against her, and the one spot right between his ribs that made him laugh every time.

She worked her hands across the top of his shoulders, which gave way under her hands, and then held the base of his neck with one hand, firmly stroking down his spine with her other palm. She did it again using her nails, and he shivered, skin rising into goosebumps.

“So good at this,” breathed Nilesy.

“Loads of practice,” she said. “Used to trade it for favors.”

“I will force upgrade anything you want, Lomadia, _anything_ ,” he said drowsily. “Force upgrade a _cat_.”

Lomadia chuckled. Putty in her hands. She could do with a bit more spare time around here. Less bat hunting. She kneaded his back, idly writing up a wishlist. Nilesy swayed with every push, breath slow and deep, and it was getting difficult for her to put any pressure on him without knocking him over.

“Lie down, Nilesy. I’ve got an idea.”

She couldn’t tell if he nodded or if his head just drooped, but she got off the bed anyway, guiding Nilesy to lie flat. He slumped into the mattress, face mashed into the blanket. Mr. Cat left, offended. Lomadia swung a leg over him, planting a knee on the bed, and pressed down both sides of his spine again, using her knuckles this time. Something popped, but she wasn’t sure if it was his back or her knuckles. Nilesy’s eyes were shut, and his face slack.

She palmed his back, then took up a handful of skin, squeezing it between fingers and thumb. The skin was loose and pliant, and she inched her hand downwards, shifting her grip to take in and release more skin in a smooth rolling motion. When she reached the tighter skin at the base of his spine, she released him, and stroked his back to disperse the tingles. Nilesy’s back rose and fell softly.

From this angle, she had far more leverage, and she used her knuckles more, and the heels of her hands. She could even bring more force to bear on a thumb, or an elbow. Not that Nilesy needed it at this point, he was as fluid as a cat. Lomadia pressed down between his shoulder blades with the heels of her hands until she heard a pop. He murmured, and she moved down his spine, repeating it. She got a pop every few inches, and he sank into the bed bonelessly, the breath sighing out of him when she pressed firmly. Couldn’t do this with Xephos, not an ounce to spare on him, and without any padding, he was jumpy and sensitive under pressure.

Nilesy was breathing deeply and drooling into the bed by the time she stopped. Lomadia tugged his shirt straight again, and petted a hand across his buttery soft back. He was warm from friction, and if he had been Xeph, he would have been glowing blue with contentment.

“The potatoes should be done,” she whispered. She patted him on the shoulder and rose.

There was a splintering crack of breaking wood outside, and then a ponderous leafy crash. Lomadia rushed to the door in time to see alder branches thundering into the pond. The falling tree trunk had taken out a good portion of the fence, and in its place stood a shimmering obsidian portal, its edge fused into what remained of the stump.

Lalna stumbled through the portal with a haggard face, slipping on the fallen trunk and splashing into the shallow water.

Lomadia stepped through the door and closed it behind her. The wind was like a slap in the face. “Oi! You! There’s a perfectly good portal down by the docks!”

“Really sorry,” squeaked Lalna. “Our portal blew out. It was an emergency.” He had his sword out, and was trembling.

Behind him, Xephos staggered through, grayfaced and panting, and then turned to help Honeydew down from the lip of the portal.

Lomadia stepped towards them, hands on her hips. “Well, you’d better not have angered the ents by chopping down that tree, is all I’m - oh bums, there it is.”

Xephos screamed at the sight of the enraged tree lumbering through the grove and bolted, attracting its attention. Lomadia swore and fumbled for the doorknob. It twisted under her hand, and Nilesy pulled it open, shoving a sheathed sword into her hands. She shed the scabbard and ran towards the ent. Xephos let out a constant stream of cries, begging for help as he dodged around the trees.

“It’s mad at me! It’s really mad!” he babbled. “A tree is mad at me!”

Xephos hurdled over the altar, kicking over the chalice and candelabra, and threw himself into a raspberry bush. The ent lurched after him, roots churning the earth and flattening her belladonna patch. Lomadia’s mouth dropped open in outrage. Some bloody guardian of the witch grove, that cheeky bugger. She had _just_ planted those.

Lalna quivered and raised his sword uncertainly as the ent circled the fence.

“Out of the way, Lalna!” Lomadia roared, sprinting around the fallen alder.

Lalna dropped his rapier and gave way before her, limping towards the witch’s cottage and holding a hand against his stomach, but Honeydew lunged out from behind a tree to stand between Xephos and the ent.

“Right, come on, you bastard!” He bared his teeth. Despite the blood dripping down his face, it was a credible threat. It loomed over him, shadowing him under its canopy. The raspberry bush quivered.

Lomadia hit the ent from behind, sword biting into its bark with a vicious shine. Must have been Nilesy’s work, it was a good enchantment. The tree shuddered, spinning around to club a branch into Lomadia. She dodged the wood, but the leaves stung as they whipped across her face. She staggered back, hand pressed to her weeping eye, and slammed the back of her head into a tree, teeth clacking together painfully.

The ent’s eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light and it groaned like a mast in high wind. Honeydew beat at it with a wild shriek, hacking off chunks of wood, and Xephos poked his head around the raspberry bush, peppering the ent with what looked like tiny nails.

She and Honeydew fell into a rhythm, hitting it from either side as the ent spun furiously between them. Honeydew was far shorter, and had an easier time dodging the raking branches, but Lomadia’s reach gave her more openings to strike. Twigs snapped and leaves whirled around them as the ent locked branches with one of the rowans, trying to push further into the grove after them. Spanish moss tore and twined around the ent’s branches.

Lomadia got hit again, a sickening crack to the shoulder, and she dropped her sword, scrambling for it in the leaf litter with numb fingers. Her fingers were stiff from the cold, and her throat felt like she had swallowed an icy needle. The tree loomed over her, eyes glowing balefully, and a flaming arrow sailed in, thumping into its raised branch. She closed her hand over the sword and scuttled back. Honeydew moved in and picked up the slack, his blade sticky with sap as he swung it into the creature. Another arrow sank into the ent’s crown and disappeared.

Lomadia looked over. Nilesy stood by the cottage door, taking careful aim with a shimmering bow. Lalna was propped against a chest next to him, two arrows sticking out of his leg. Lomadia turned her attention back to the ent, giving it a solid whack. It had a series of deep cuts ringing it, right at shoulder level, and a wedge taken out some distance lower. Orange light flickered between its leaves.

“This is a witch’s garden,” she panted, “and I’m the bloody witch around here. So sod off.”

She wound up and drove the sword into the ent’s face, wedging it deep in the wood. She pulled it free with a wrench, ready to keep hitting it until the sodding thing was a pile of matchsticks, but the ent’s eyes flickered and faded, its face vanishing into the rough pattern of the bark. Honeydew scrambled out of the way as it toppled, flattening a good portion of her witchery garden.

Lomadia panted, her sword arm hanging limply. Her throat was raw and she spat out a thick glob of spit, bracing herself on a tree as a wave of dizziness hit her. Something thumped into her ribs and she snarled, raising the sword with a sudden burst of adrenaline.

Nilesy waved cheerily from the steps. “You’re welcome, Lom!”

She looked down at the arrow sticking out of her chest, and pulled it free with a grimace. Nilesy’s healing arrows were broad-tipped, but still stung a bit. She did feel better for having been shot, though.

She waved the arrow at Honeydew. “You want a poke?”

He laughed, high and giddy. “How does it work, then, you just?” He mimed stabbing himself.

“Nah, you have to ask him.” She pointed at Nilesy, who raised his bow.

Honeydew ducked behind her, out of Nilesy’s line of sight. “Think I’ll hold out for a potion, thanks.”

The wind and exertion had pinched a little color back into Xephos, but he was still unsteady, weaving towards them like a stork with half the grace. He stopped beside Honeydew, placing a hand on his head.

They paused to take stock and catch their breath. The portal hovered next to the pond, making its disturbing noises and breathing out that awful farty Nether stench. The air around it rippled with heat, and Lomadia sighed, looking at the wilted snowdrops underneath it. The fallen ent crackled and smoked. Lalna eyed it with horror, giving it a wide berth, and Nilesy followed with an easy grin, patting him on the back.

“There, now, that wasn’t half bad. Still got plenty of arrows in the quiver. We’re old hands at entslaying.”

“Aw _don’t_ tread on the mushrooms, I’m using those,” said Lomadia. Lalna looked at his feet guiltily, and shuffled away from the mushroom paste.

“And mind the mandrakes, you don’t want to wake them up.”

Lalna froze, and Nilesy took his arm, leading him to safety on the grass.

“We should get going, it’s nearly dark,” declared Xephos, straightening his back and bracing himself on Honeydew. “Terribly sorry about the portal, Lomadia, I can help with that later. Come along, Lalna.”

Lalna balked, looking at Honeydew. Honeydew backed off a step, looking Xephos up and down.

Xephos had dark circles under his eyes, and was definitely favoring his left arm. The sleeve had a dark glittery stain to it that Lomadia didn’t like. The others were hardly in better shape, ragged and scorched, shaking with fatigue.

Lomadia’s lips thinned, and she met Honeydew’s eyes.

“Or we could stay the night,” said Honeydew. “There’s mobs everywhere, I don’t feel like walking any more, and I definitely don’t feel like taking a _‘shortcut’_ through the fucking Nether.”

“Really, I’m sure they had dinner plans, we couldn’t possibly impose-”

Lalna’s eyes were large and pleading, and his teeth had started chattering in the cold.

“ _Xephos_.” Honeydew’s voice rose, trembling on the edge of a sulk, and Xephos wilted before it.

“Well, come on in then,” said Lomadia. “And stop tromping on my plants.”

The witches’ cottage wasn’t roomy at the best of times, and seemed an awful lot smaller as everyone crowded in, stomping their boots, leaning their weapons against the door, and sniffling as their noses ran in the sudden warmth. Lomadia’s shoulders dropped as she closed the door behind her. They’d have to bolt it firmly tonight, or the mobs would get ideas about the giant hole in the fence.

There were no more takers for the healing arrows, and Nilesy tossed his bow and quiver into a nearby chest, disappearing upstairs. Lomadia pointed out the water barrel next to the oven, and the guests took turns dipping up bucketfuls, drinking and splashing the lukewarm water over their heads, hastily scrubbing off the worst of the blood and Nether muck with some of her least favorite towels. Nilesy reappeared on the stairs with an armful of health potions, and passed them out without dropping any.

“So that’s where the damn things got to,” said Lomadia. “Nilesy, I needed those the other day.”

“Sorry,” said Nilesy. “They were in my rubbish chest.”

Honeydew giggled, and Xephos looked pained.

“That’s not funny. A proper sorting system is - is indispensible. It’s necessary, and - stop laughing.”

“He mined right through our last one,” confided Lalna to Nilesy. “Quartz everywhere.”

The witches’ cottage didn’t have a lot of proper furniture; she and Nilesy had never quite gotten around to making chairs and a dinner table. It was on the to-do list, but never seemed to work its way to the top, and really, the cottage was cluttered enough as is. They usually sat on their beds or the stairs to eat dinner, or ate standing up at a work table. Or outside, when the weather was nice and the breeze blew softly through the trees. It was decidedly not nice weather outside right now, and Lomadia shivered as the wind wuthered, angry to be locked out.

The guests distributed themselves over the available furniture - the chests and the staircase. Lomadia silently thanked them for keeping their wet and still-brimstoney selves off the beds. She had just washed the sheets yesterday.

Nilesy hustled outside wrapped in a thick cloak, borrowing a water bucket to douse the smoldering ent, and returned it overflowing with berries. Even without the bush Xephos had trampled, the garden was lush, and the bucket was full to the brim with dark, juicy berries. Nilesy rummaged through a chest and turned up a stack of bowls, doling out a bowlful of berries to everyone while Lomadia put dinner together. She popped a blackberry in her mouth. Sweet, with just the slightest sting of tartness.

She hadn't had a lot of dinner planned, since it was just the two of them, but there was plenty of bread left over from yesterday's baking, and if there weren't enough baked potatoes to go round, there was certainly a lot more fish she could add to the stew to stretch it out. She tossed the baked potatoes into the stew – easier than trying to split two potatoes among five people, and they were already cooked – and some apples too, they had more than enough of those.

Lomadia stirred in two more chilis, considering her pantry. She added the mushrooms more grudgingly; her garden had been thoroughly trampled, and she needed to replant it soon to bring the altar back up to full strength. Every living plant helped. She cast a glance at Xephos’s dim glow as he licked his empty bowl, and tossed in a golden carrot along with the regular ones while nobody was looking.

Honeydew coughed, and she turned to look at him. He was perched on the crafting table, legs swinging in the air, and she knew by his gaptoothed grin that he had seen the carrot.

“He could use a bit more feeding up,” he said casually, stealing an apple slice from her cutting board. “Don’t suppose you have any ham?”

She shook her head, taking an apple slice too. “Sorry. We don’t really keep animals besides the horses.”

“It’s dead easy. All you need is a spawner and some hoppers, Xephos set it up. And - well, ours was on the moon, so we didn’t really have to worry about killing them, but you could probably do an electric fence.”

Lomadia made a face. “Xephos and his hoppers. We’ve got some of those in our orchard, and really, that’s an unnecessary amount of apples.”

“The cider is lovely, though. Xeph brought some home once. Best I’ve had in ages.”

“Aw, thanks! I can show you around the brewery sometime, we really have more than we need, you’d be doing us a favor.”

They shared the rest of the apple and fell into companionable silence as she stirred the pot until Lalna shuffled up holding his bowl, drawn by the crunch of apples and the smell of stew. Honeydew laughed and helped her ladle out the stew, and Lomadia looked up to see Xephos watching them, his eyes soft.

They balanced their bowls on their knees, and ate as if they were starving, with loud compliments on the stew.

“You’re a lifesaver. I was about to ready to eat spider eyes,” confessed Honeydew.

Lomadia wrinkled her nose. “Really?”

“We were down there for _ages_.”

“Netherwart tastes exactly as bad as it smells,” said Lalna quietly. Fishbone rubbed against his arm until he scooped out another chunk of fish for him, blowing on it until it cooled, and the other two cats danced around his ankles. The cats had taken a particular liking to Lalna, and Honeydew sulked when he wasn’t able to coax them over to him instead.

After some frantic flailing, Xephos had reached an uneasy truce with the ravens, who perched on his bony shoulders and stared at every spoonful he brought to his mouth.

“Do they… want something?” he squeaked.

“Just ignore them,” said Lomadia without turning away from her conversation with Honeydew.

“They’re the size of _chickens_.”

“Don’t pay them any attention, it only encourages them. Honestly, Honeydew, who goes into the Nether without flint and steel? Those ghasts are everywhere.” She shook her head. “Cheeky buggers.”

Lalna came back for thirds, and Nilesy sighed, stirring his spoon around his half-full bowl and picking out another scrap of fish for the cats.

“You know,” he said, “you can use mutandis to turn one kind of meat into another.”

Xephos paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. His eyes darted from Nilesy to Lomadia.

“Don’t be silly, Nilesy,” said Lomadia. “I’m not putting mutandis in the food. There’s ghast tears in it, for goodness’ sake.”

Xephos swallowed heavily.

“Besides, it’s far too expensive to use as a _seasoning_ , we’ve got witchery to do. You want beef, you’d better hunt a cow yourself.”

The house grew warm from the additional body heat and cooking. Lomadia had repurposed both the furnace and the witchery oven for baked apples, and sent Nilesy down to the brewery for cider and some wine for mulling. How he got the cider barrel up the ladder wasn’t Lomadia’s concern, but she kept an ear out for zombies outside.

Xephos loitered in her kitchen as she caramelized sugar to make a sauce for the apples, his lanky legs an absolute nuisance in the small floor space. He inspected the damage to his coat, having shucked it in the warmth.

“So what was in that cup? A bit of the old eye of newt, hair of frog?” He pulled at a trailing thread.

“What cup?” Lomadia asked absently, stirring the caramel.

“The one on the altar. The, er, red stuff.”

“You knocked over my chalice?” She frowned. “Damn it Xephos, that's going to be hard to replace.”

He looked uneasy. “Are you sure you need to replace it?”

“Oh _honestly_ , Xeph.” She shifted the pan off the heat and turned to look him in the eyes. “I'm not getting involved in blood magic. It's just redstone soup. Might be a little evil, but it's _refined_ evil, there's no person bits in it. Cross my heart.”

His shoulders relaxed an inch.

“You owe me an egg, by the way,” she said.

“An egg?”

“Well, I've got the rest in the garden, haven't I? But eggs are very hard to find around here. We don't keep chickens, and the wild ones are starting to get crafty about where they hide their eggs.”

“An egg. Bloody hell. I thought it’d be a bit more.” He gestured vaguely. “Witchy.”

“Witchy enough, I’d say.”

Nilesy got the first baked apple in recognition of his cider quest, and Honeydew sloshed mulled wine into his, which everyone agreed was a stroke of genius. Lalna and Nilesy clustered by the window, sitting on Nilesy's bed and looking out at the trees, debating how to dispose of the lumber - both the fallen alder and the entwood. Honeydew voted to set the ent on fire again, just to be safe, while Xephos was certain he could come up with a far more efficient way to sort out the lumber chest, given enough room to build the equipment. Nilesy looked far too interested in that, and far too eager to show off the efficiency of his force pickaxes by taking down the portal. Lomadia would have to squash that before her garden got further destroyed.

Honeydew's eyes were the first to close, and he fell asleep curled up on the crafting table with a spoon still in his mouth. Lomadia hoped he wouldn't choke. Nilesy pulled the spoon out and started clearing away the empty bowls, stacking them up as he moved across the room. He took Lalna's empty bowl out of his hands.

“Would you like another apple, or are you done? There's still loads left.”

Lalna shook his head and looked apologetic. “We should... thanks for your hospitality, it's been.” He yawned. “This is your bed, isn't it.”

“Don't worry about it,” said Nilesy affably. “I'll be in the stables. I usually sleep there, to protect the horses from Lomadia.”

“That was one time, Nilesy.”

“That was three times, Lomadia.”

She huffed, but dropped the argument, lulled by the warm food and mulled wine inside her. “Don't suppose we've got any spare blankets in the weapons chest?”

Nilesy looked guilty. “Probably in the building chest, I had to dump a lot of wool to carry all that fencing the other day.”

He turned up a fleece and a section of sail stolen from a pirate ship, and left for the stables.

“Goodnight, Nilesy,” said Lomadia. “Don’t let the zombies bite.”

“Night, Lomadia. Sleep well.”

Lomadia did one last circuit of the room, bolting the door, dousing the torches and tucking her spare robes around Honeydew. Xephos had tucked himself in Lomadia’s bed, and she spooned up behind him.

“Hnnydu?” murmured Xephos.

“Asleep. It’s warmer by the oven anyways.”

Xephos mumbled his agreement, burrowing back into Lomadia, and she drew the covers up tighter. The cottage was dark and still, full of the sound of deep breathing and the crackle of banked fires. The wind still howled outside, but with no way in, the wuthering just made the bed feel warmer, and the cottage feel cozier. She fell asleep stroking Xephos’s hair, lulled by the song of the wind.

 

 


End file.
